On the twenty-seventh day the boys were seated on a shady balcony from which they could look down toward the city of Naples. Directly below the grounds of their villa were the headquarters and general assembly fields of the Germans. They seemed to be present in considerable strength. Stan sat with his feet on a railing. Allison was near the railing. O’Malley was sprawled out in an easy chair.
“Sure, an’ it will be no trick at all to get away,” he said.
“Before our parole is up the general will make other plans for us, you can bet on that,” Stan answered.
“I’ll bet we’re locked up,” Allison added.
“We could sneak out a bit ahead o’ time,” O’Malley suggested.
“The general has treated us very fine, besides saving our lives. We stay until one minute after midnight of the thirtieth day,” Stan said firmly.
“I’m goin’ crazy,” O’Malley growled, “sittin’ around here listenin’ to air fights. There won’t be a German plane left to tangle with by the time we get back into it.” He sat up and scowled down at the German camp. “Besides, these Italians can’t make decent pie.”
The boys laughed and O’Malley joined in. Behind them a curtain parted and four officers stepped out on the balcony. The general was paying them a visit and he had with him three flying officers of the Italian air force.
The Yanks got to their feet. The general smiled in friendly fashion and waved a hand toward the three fliers.
“I have brought three of my boys, Tony Bolero, Arno Bolero and Lorenzo Bolero. They are all officers of our air corps.” He faced the Yanks. “Lieutenant Wilson, Lieutenant O’Malley, and Lieutenant Allison.”